I agree. There is no 'light at the end of the tunnel" like in all of Tolkien's other work. This story is unique in Tolkien's work indeed had I not known who was the author of Túrin's story I would never have guessed it to be Tolkien!The ends of all the main characters are coldly and brutally rendered. No where else in the Sil.....not even in the stark passages of the Nirnaeth Arnoediad, is death and despair so enveloping and inescapable. In that alone, I think Tolkien masterfully lets his readers "feel" the weight of Morgoth's terrible power.
The Silmarillion Discussion at The Hall of Fire
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superwizard
- Ingólemo
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axordil
- Pleasantly Twisted
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Were it not for the combination of the curse and the absent father, Túrin would have been, likely as not, a great and good man...but would he have slain Glaurung?Túrin does have a kind and sensitive soul.
Hmm. If there's anything I fear from the upcoming work, it's that it loses that bitter taste. It gives the story depth, and catharsis. It's Tolkien's Hamlet, as opposed to his Tempest, which would be Beren and Lúthien.it would have done much to wash away the taste of this dark story, most bitter of all the tales brewed in Middle-earth.
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Voronwë the Faithful
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Chapter 22 - Of the Ruin of Doriath
It is difficult to talk about this chapter in the context of being part of J.R.R. Tolkien's The Silmarillion, because so little of it comes from The Silmarillion as it was left by Tolkien. A small portion of it is taken from the older, pre-LOTR (even pre-Hobbit) version of The Silmarillion (which was, in fact, the last version that he ever wrote of this part of the story), and somewhat more comes from various parts of the related tale The Wanderings of Húrin. But I would estimate that over half is pure editorial invention, including some material that is pretty critical to the story. Still, it is the published Silmarillion that we are discussing, so that is what I intend to talk about. But I won't be able to avoid making some commentary about how the invented material changed what Tolkien intended, I am quite sure.
The chapter begins with the release of Húrin by Morgoth, who “feigned that in this he moved by pity as for n enemy utterly defeated.” Húrin himself knew that Morgoth was without pity, and he took his freedom after 28 years of captivity with bitterness in his heart. He was grim to look upon, but he walked unbowed. He passed into his old lordship in Hithlum with “a great riding of captains and black soldiers of Angband ... as one that was held in high honour.” Thus the Easterlings did not touch him, and he was shunned by the remnant of his own people.
This but increased the bitterness of his heart, and he left Hithlim and tried to seek his way back to the hidden realm of Gondolin. He was espied by the great eagles, and Thorondor reported thus to Turgon. However, Turgon is at first unmoved.
’Then your words bode ill,’ said Turgon; ‘for they can bear but one meaning. Even Húrin Thalion has surrendered to the will of Morgoth. My heart is shut.’
But Turgon repented, remembering Húrin’s great deeds, and eventually sent the eagles to look for him. Too late. The eagles never found him again, nor heard Húrin’s desperate cries:
’Turgon, Turgon, remember the Fen of Serech! O Turgon, will you not hear in your hidden halls?’ But there was no sound save the wind in the dry grasses. ‘Even so they hissed in Serech at the sunset.’ he said; and as he spoke the sun went behind the Mountains of Shadow, and a darkness fell about him, and the wind ceased, and there was silence in the waste.
I have often wondered about what would have happened had Turgon not initially “shut his heart” and had Thorondor go to Húrin right away and bring him to Gondolin. Would the king of eagles have found him? Would it have made any difference. The ruin of both Doriath and Gondolin proceeded from that moment. For Húrin’s desperate cries were heard by Morgoth’s spies, and thus for the first time the dark lord learned clearly in what region Turgon dwelt, without which Maeglin’s later treachery would not have been possible. As for how this led to Doriath’s ruin. That is the main subject of this chapter, as we will see.
Húrin then “fell into a heavy sleep of grief. But in his sleep he heard the voice of Morwen lamenting, and often she spoke his name; and it seemed to him that her voice came out of Brethil.” He therefore traveled to the Crossings of Teiglin, and saw the tall stone standing there. But he did not look at the stone “for he knew what was written there; and his eyes had seen that he was not alone.” His meeting with Morwen, and her death are very poignant, and I won’t belabor how much more powerful it is in the form written by Tolkien (read my book!
)
With Húrin’s solitary journey from Brethil to Nargothrond, and his slaying of Mîm there we enter the realm of pure editorial invention. Gone are the band of outlaws that Húrin leads, paralleling his own son’s story. Most bizarre of all is the invention of the idea that the one thing that Húrin bore away from Nargothrond was “no lesser treasure that the Nauglamír, the Necklace of the Dwarves, that was made for Finrod Felagund long years before by the craftsmen of Nogrod and Belegost, most famed of all their works in the Elder Days, and prized by Finrod while he lived above all the treasures of Nargothrond.”
Not in anything that Tolkien ever wrote, however. At no time in the history of the Silmarillion stories did Tolkien ever suggest that the Nauglamír was a pre-existing treasure that was then combined with the Silmaril won by Beren and Lúthien. This is pure invention. Indeed the whole conversation of Húrin with Thingol and Melian is invented by CT (and/or Guy Kay). Christopher admits that in this case he “overstep[ped] the bounds of the editorial function”. Needless to say, I agree with him.
Húrin’s death, in which he casts himself into the western sea, however, does come from the old Quenta Noldorinwa story.
Continuing with Thingol’s decision to have the dwarves “remake” the Nauglamír with the Silmaril in it, of course continues the editorial invention, for in the story as Tolkien wrote it, the dwarves first create the Nauglamír at this point, with the Silmaril, using the gold that Húrin and the outlaws brought from Nargothrond, which was cursed. However, CT’s invented story did fix one problem that Tolkien himself identified with the old story, in which the dwarves invaded Doriath and then killed Thingol, despite the fact that the Girdle of Melian was already in place. CT fixed this problem by having the dwarves already be in Menegroth.
And while the details have been changed, the pride and greed of both dwarves and of Thingol himself, which leads to his death and the slaying of the Dwarven craftmen remains the same.
Following Thingol’s death, Melian’s departure from Middle-earth is sadly anti-climatic. I compare the beauty and wonder of Thingol and Melian’s coming together with the blasé nature of his death and her return to Valinor, and it makes me regret greatly that Tolkien did not complete this portion of the story himself.
The dwarves then return to Menegroth, now no longer protected by Melian’s magic, slay many Elves, and take the Nauglamír with the Silmaril over Mablung’s dead body. But then the Dwarves are ambushed by Beren and the Elves of Ossiriand, assisted by the Shepherds of the Trees (a nice touch that is taken from a 1963 letter that Tolkien wrote), and the Nauglamír with the Silmaril is retaken.
... it is said and sung that Lúthien wearing that necklace and that immortal jewel was the vision of greatest beauty and glory that has ever been outside the realm of Valinor; and for a little while the Land of the Dead that Live became like a vision of the land of the Valar, and no place has been since so fair, so fruitful, or so filled with light.
But Dior returns to Doriath and sets himself up as Thingol’s heir, eventually receiving the Nauglarmír after his parents left Middle-earth for good, and wearing the Necklace of the Dwarves with the Silmaril amidst it, “he appeared as the fairest of all the children of the world, of threefold race: of the Edain, and of the Eldar, and of the Maiar of the Blessed Realm.”
Finally, we have the second Kinslaying, and final end of Doriath. The Second Kinslaying, in which the sons of Fëanor assault Doriath, is told in painfully brief detail. We learn that Celegormfell by Dior’s hand, and that Curufin and Caranthir are killed as well, but that Dior and his wife Nimloth are also slain, and their young sons left to starve in the forest (pre-saging the later fate of Elrond and Elros, though unlike those two Eluréd and Elurín are never rescued, and their fate is unknown).
But Elwing Dior’s daughter escapes with the Silmaril and came after a time with a remnant of the folk of Doriath to the mouths of the River Sirion by the sea.
It is difficult to talk about this chapter in the context of being part of J.R.R. Tolkien's The Silmarillion, because so little of it comes from The Silmarillion as it was left by Tolkien. A small portion of it is taken from the older, pre-LOTR (even pre-Hobbit) version of The Silmarillion (which was, in fact, the last version that he ever wrote of this part of the story), and somewhat more comes from various parts of the related tale The Wanderings of Húrin. But I would estimate that over half is pure editorial invention, including some material that is pretty critical to the story. Still, it is the published Silmarillion that we are discussing, so that is what I intend to talk about. But I won't be able to avoid making some commentary about how the invented material changed what Tolkien intended, I am quite sure.
The chapter begins with the release of Húrin by Morgoth, who “feigned that in this he moved by pity as for n enemy utterly defeated.” Húrin himself knew that Morgoth was without pity, and he took his freedom after 28 years of captivity with bitterness in his heart. He was grim to look upon, but he walked unbowed. He passed into his old lordship in Hithlum with “a great riding of captains and black soldiers of Angband ... as one that was held in high honour.” Thus the Easterlings did not touch him, and he was shunned by the remnant of his own people.
This but increased the bitterness of his heart, and he left Hithlim and tried to seek his way back to the hidden realm of Gondolin. He was espied by the great eagles, and Thorondor reported thus to Turgon. However, Turgon is at first unmoved.
’Then your words bode ill,’ said Turgon; ‘for they can bear but one meaning. Even Húrin Thalion has surrendered to the will of Morgoth. My heart is shut.’
But Turgon repented, remembering Húrin’s great deeds, and eventually sent the eagles to look for him. Too late. The eagles never found him again, nor heard Húrin’s desperate cries:
’Turgon, Turgon, remember the Fen of Serech! O Turgon, will you not hear in your hidden halls?’ But there was no sound save the wind in the dry grasses. ‘Even so they hissed in Serech at the sunset.’ he said; and as he spoke the sun went behind the Mountains of Shadow, and a darkness fell about him, and the wind ceased, and there was silence in the waste.
I have often wondered about what would have happened had Turgon not initially “shut his heart” and had Thorondor go to Húrin right away and bring him to Gondolin. Would the king of eagles have found him? Would it have made any difference. The ruin of both Doriath and Gondolin proceeded from that moment. For Húrin’s desperate cries were heard by Morgoth’s spies, and thus for the first time the dark lord learned clearly in what region Turgon dwelt, without which Maeglin’s later treachery would not have been possible. As for how this led to Doriath’s ruin. That is the main subject of this chapter, as we will see.
Húrin then “fell into a heavy sleep of grief. But in his sleep he heard the voice of Morwen lamenting, and often she spoke his name; and it seemed to him that her voice came out of Brethil.” He therefore traveled to the Crossings of Teiglin, and saw the tall stone standing there. But he did not look at the stone “for he knew what was written there; and his eyes had seen that he was not alone.” His meeting with Morwen, and her death are very poignant, and I won’t belabor how much more powerful it is in the form written by Tolkien (read my book!
)With Húrin’s solitary journey from Brethil to Nargothrond, and his slaying of Mîm there we enter the realm of pure editorial invention. Gone are the band of outlaws that Húrin leads, paralleling his own son’s story. Most bizarre of all is the invention of the idea that the one thing that Húrin bore away from Nargothrond was “no lesser treasure that the Nauglamír, the Necklace of the Dwarves, that was made for Finrod Felagund long years before by the craftsmen of Nogrod and Belegost, most famed of all their works in the Elder Days, and prized by Finrod while he lived above all the treasures of Nargothrond.”
Not in anything that Tolkien ever wrote, however. At no time in the history of the Silmarillion stories did Tolkien ever suggest that the Nauglamír was a pre-existing treasure that was then combined with the Silmaril won by Beren and Lúthien. This is pure invention. Indeed the whole conversation of Húrin with Thingol and Melian is invented by CT (and/or Guy Kay). Christopher admits that in this case he “overstep[ped] the bounds of the editorial function”. Needless to say, I agree with him.
Húrin’s death, in which he casts himself into the western sea, however, does come from the old Quenta Noldorinwa story.
Continuing with Thingol’s decision to have the dwarves “remake” the Nauglamír with the Silmaril in it, of course continues the editorial invention, for in the story as Tolkien wrote it, the dwarves first create the Nauglamír at this point, with the Silmaril, using the gold that Húrin and the outlaws brought from Nargothrond, which was cursed. However, CT’s invented story did fix one problem that Tolkien himself identified with the old story, in which the dwarves invaded Doriath and then killed Thingol, despite the fact that the Girdle of Melian was already in place. CT fixed this problem by having the dwarves already be in Menegroth.
And while the details have been changed, the pride and greed of both dwarves and of Thingol himself, which leads to his death and the slaying of the Dwarven craftmen remains the same.
Following Thingol’s death, Melian’s departure from Middle-earth is sadly anti-climatic. I compare the beauty and wonder of Thingol and Melian’s coming together with the blasé nature of his death and her return to Valinor, and it makes me regret greatly that Tolkien did not complete this portion of the story himself.
The dwarves then return to Menegroth, now no longer protected by Melian’s magic, slay many Elves, and take the Nauglamír with the Silmaril over Mablung’s dead body. But then the Dwarves are ambushed by Beren and the Elves of Ossiriand, assisted by the Shepherds of the Trees (a nice touch that is taken from a 1963 letter that Tolkien wrote), and the Nauglamír with the Silmaril is retaken.
... it is said and sung that Lúthien wearing that necklace and that immortal jewel was the vision of greatest beauty and glory that has ever been outside the realm of Valinor; and for a little while the Land of the Dead that Live became like a vision of the land of the Valar, and no place has been since so fair, so fruitful, or so filled with light.
But Dior returns to Doriath and sets himself up as Thingol’s heir, eventually receiving the Nauglarmír after his parents left Middle-earth for good, and wearing the Necklace of the Dwarves with the Silmaril amidst it, “he appeared as the fairest of all the children of the world, of threefold race: of the Edain, and of the Eldar, and of the Maiar of the Blessed Realm.”
Finally, we have the second Kinslaying, and final end of Doriath. The Second Kinslaying, in which the sons of Fëanor assault Doriath, is told in painfully brief detail. We learn that Celegormfell by Dior’s hand, and that Curufin and Caranthir are killed as well, but that Dior and his wife Nimloth are also slain, and their young sons left to starve in the forest (pre-saging the later fate of Elrond and Elros, though unlike those two Eluréd and Elurín are never rescued, and their fate is unknown).
But Elwing Dior’s daughter escapes with the Silmaril and came after a time with a remnant of the folk of Doriath to the mouths of the River Sirion by the sea.
"Spirits in the shape of hawks and eagles flew ever to and from his halls; and their eyes could see to the depths of the seas, and pierce the hidden caverns beneath the world."
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superwizard
- Ingólemo
- Posts: 866
- Joined: Thu May 04, 2006 10:21 am
I doubt it would have prevented the fall of Gondolin. There was no hope for the elves and Gondolin would have had to fall in the long run. Alas the elves were doomed and there was no escaping itV wrote:I have often wondered about what would have happened had Turgon not initially “shut his heart” and had Thorondor go to Húrin right away and bring him to Gondolin. Would the king of eagles have found him? Would it have made any difference.
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Dân o Nandor on Anduin
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- Location: Niagara Falls, CAN
In fact, its over 2/3 complete editorial invention (68.5%), thus this chapter belongs more on a Guy Gavriel Kay website than a JRRT one! (Of course that would be ignoring CT's masterminding).
The only way to make sense of this chapter IMHO is to somehow reason that scribes of later ages, surfacing in Bilbo's Translations from the Elvish, not only desired to eradicate Húrin's failings and excessive pride, and elevate him to superhuman status (just as CT did!), but that said scribes (and Galadriel & Celeborn too) wished to mitigate racial ill-feelings between Men, Petty-Dwarves, Sindar, Noldor, Belegost-Dwarves, Nogrod-Dwarves, and even Ents (which the calamity in Doriath brutally fostered for 2 Ages, ie. Hobbit, LotR), by glossing over some politically explosive details, as well as inventing some healing ones (ie. Dwarves crafting the Nauglamír for Finrod).
Otherwise, if you can't bring yourself to play such games, or hide yourself in a dark room when you read the Sil and never emerge to openly discuss it, this chapter is totally meaningless - an abominable sham. IMHO of course.
So then, what did really happen in Tolkien's world? Well, there's HoMe Vols 11 & 2, Wanderings of Húrin & Tale of the Nauglafring, the only available JRRT narratives. They aren't smooth and effortless, nor contained in one nice packaged novel, but they do provide enough reasonable consistency to warrant inclusion in the legendarium over the fiction of Ch.22, and are tremendous stories to boot (written by JRRT, imagine!). Apologies where I'm preaching to the converted...
Linking them is the minor problem. To do so, one has to piece together what CT calls "scrappy writings" following Wanderings, and the Lost Tales conclusion of Turambar & the Foaloke, to the Tale of the Nauglafring. But, guess what, I've done so...
(From posts on another site):
I give here a full story, in Tolkien’s own words (7½ mine, in bold), of Húrin’s travels from Brethil to Nargothrond to Doriath and back to Hithlum, composed of the final paragraphs of Wanderings, JRRT’s contemporaneous “scrappy writings”, the conclusion of the Tale of Turambar, the Quenta Noldorinwa death of Húrin, and the QS 'Second Prophecy of Mandos'. This is how I wish CT concludes Children of Húrin, after hopefully including Wanderings. We'll see!
(I’ve also rendered consistent all the following name changes: Harathor>Hardang, Asgorn>Asgon, Taiglin>Taeglin, Glórung,Glómund,Glorund>Glaurung, Úrin>Húrin, Rodothlim>Elves of Nargothrond, Galweg>Orodreth, Melko>Morgoth, Tinwelint>Thingol, Mavwin>Morwen, Nienori>Nienor, Palisor>Cuiviénen, fall of Silver Bowl>Ravines of Taeglin, Kôr>Tirion, Fui>Nienna, Vefántur>Mandos, Fôs’Almir the bath of flame>Bath of the Setting Sun, Urwendi>Arien, Mormakil>Mormegil, Noldoli>Noldor, Artanor>Doriath, Palurien>Kementári, Fionwë>Eonwë, Great Wrack>Last Battle).
HÚRIN & THE OUTLAWS LEAVE BRETHIL
‘Thou hast a hard eye, Húrin, to pierce all hearts but thine own,’ said Manthor. ‘Yea, thy darkness touched me also. Now alas! the Haladin are ended; for this wound is to the death. Was not this your errand, Man of the North: to bring ruin upon us to weigh against thine own? The House of Hador has conquered us, and four now have fallen under its shadow: Brandir, and Hunthor, and Hardang, and Manthor. Is that not enough? Wilt thou not go and leave this land ere it dies?’
‘I will,’ said Húrin. ‘But if the well of my tears were not utterly dried up, I would weep for thee, Manthor; for thou hast saved me from dishonour, and thou hadst love for my son.’
‘Then, lord, use in peace the little more life that I have won for thee,’ said Manthor. ‘Do not bring your shadow upon others!’
‘Why, must I not still walk in the world?’ said Húrin. ‘I will go on till the shadow overtakes me. Farewell!’
Thus Húrin parted from Manthor. When men came to tend his wound they found that it was grave, for the arrow had gone deep into his side; and they wished to bear Manthor back as swiftly as they could to the Obel to have the care of skilled leeches. ‘Too late,’ said Manthor, and plucked out the arrow, and gave a great cry, and was still.
Then they wept, and they took him up, and prepared to bear him back, and they took no more heed of Húrin. But he stood silent, and turned soon away; the sun was gone down into cloud and the light failed, and he went down alone towards the Hauð-en-Elleth.
Thus befell the ruin of Brethil. For now it is said that those with Hardang were not all caught, and others came in hearing the news, and there was fighting in the Obel, and a great burning, until all was well nigh destroyed. But when the wrath of men had cooled they made peace, and some said: ‘What hath bewitched us? Surely Húrin begot all this evil, and Hardang and Avranc were more wise. They would have kept him out if they could.’ So they chose Avranc to be their chief, since none of the House of Haleth were left, but he wielded no such authority and reverence as the Chieftains before, and the Folk of Brethil fell back again to be more like their kinsmen in the open woods.
With the Moot Ring ‘unhallowed’ and the confederation broken up, men went each to their own homesteads. But some misliked this and would not serve under Avranc and made ready to depart, willing to go with Húrin. He gathers a few men who despair now of defending Brethil from the growing strength of Morgoth, having no homes or lands of their own, and wish to fly south. At the Taeglin crossing they fall in with Asgon, who has heard rumour of the wild deeds in Brethil, and of Húrin’s coming, and are now venturing back into the land to seek him. Asgon greets him, and is glad that Hardang has been punished, but angered that no one had told Húrin of their coming.
HÚRIN & MÎM IN NARGOTHROND
Now Húrin seems to pick up strength and youth. Vengeance seems to have heartened him, and he walks now strongly. They pass into the woods and gather the last fugitives of the wood-men, the kin of the folk of Brethil. Asgon they choose for captain, but he treats Húrin as lord, and does as he wills. ‘Whither shall we go,’ he asks, as they must know a place of refuge. Húrin elects to go to Nargothrond to seek news since he had been an admirer of Felagund.
On a time therefore Húrin led them to the caves of the Elves of Nargothrond, and behold the Orcs had fled therefrom at the death of Glaurung, and one only dwelt there still, an old misshapen dwarf who sat ever on the pile of gold singing black songs of enchantment to himself. But none had come nigh till then to despoil him, for the terror of the drake lived longer than he, and none had ventured thither again for dread of the very spirit of Glaurung the worm. Now therefore when those men approached the dwarf stood before the doors of the cave that was once the abode of Orodreth, and he cried: “What will ye with me, O outlaws of the hills?” But Húrin answered: “We come to take what is not thine.” Then said that dwarf, and his name was Mîm: “O Húrin, little did I think to see thee, a lord of Men, with such a rabble. Hearken now to the words of Mîm the fatherless, and depart, touching not this gold no more than were it venomous fires. For has not Glaurung lain long years upon it, and the evil of the drakes of Morgoth is on it, and no good can it bring to Man or Elf, but I, only I, can ward it, Mîm the dwarf, and by many a dark spell have I bound it to myself.” Then Húrin wavered, but his men were wroth at that, so that he bid them seize it all, and Mîm stood by and watched, and he broke forth into terrible and evil curses. Thereat did Húrin smite him, saying: “We came but to take what was not thine – now for thy evil words we will take what is thine as well, even thy life.”
But Mîm dying said unto Húrin: “Now Elves and Men shall rue this deed, and because of the death of Mîm the dwarf shall death follow this gold so long as it remains on Earth, and a like fate shall every part and portion share with the whole.” And Húrin shuddered, but his folk laughed.
HÚRIN & THINGOL IN DORIATH
Now Húrin caused his followers to bear this gold to the halls of Thingol, and they murmured at that, but he said: “Are ye become as the drakes of Morgoth, that would lie and wallow in gold and seek no other joy? A sweeter life shall ye have in the court of that king of greed, an ye bear such treasury to him, than all the gold of Valinor can get you in the empty woods.”
Now his heart was bitter against Thingol, and he desired to have a vengeance on him, as may be seen. So great was that hoard that great though Húrin’s company might be scarce could they bear it to the caves of Thingol the king, and some ‘tis said was left behind and some was lost upon the way, and evil has followed its finders for ever.
Yet in the end that laden host came to the bridge before the doors, and being asked by the guards Húrin said: "Say to the king that Húrin the Steadfast is come bearing gifts,” and this was done. Then Húrin let bear all that magnificence before the king, but it was hidden in sacks or shut in boxes of rough wood; and Thingol greeted Húrin with joy and with amaze and bid him thrice welcome, and he and all his court arose in honour of that lord of Men; but Húrin’s heart was blind by reason of his tormented years and of the lies of Morgoth, and he said: “Nay, O King, I do not desire to hear such words – but say only, where is Morwen my wife, and knowest thou what death did Nienor my daughter die?” And Thingol said that he knew not.
Then did Húrin fiercely tell that tale, and the king and all his folk about him hid their faces for great ruth, but Húrin said: “Nay, had you such a heart as have the least of Men, never would they have been lost; but lo, I bring you now a payment in full for the troubles of your puny band that went against Glaurung the drake, and deserting gave up my dear ones to his power. Gaze, O Thingol, sweetly on my gifts, for methinks the luster of gold is all your heart contains.”
Then did men cast down that treasury at the king’s feet, uncovering it so that all that court were dazzled and amazed – but Húrin’s men understood now what was forward and were little pleased. “Behold the hoard of Glaurung,” said Húrin, “bought by the death of Nienor with the blood of Túrin slayer of the worm. Take it, O craven king, and be glad that some Men be brave to win thee riches.”
Then were Húrin’s words more than Thingol could endure, and he said: “What meanest thou, child of Men, and wherefore upbraidest thou me? Long did I foster thy son and forgave him the evil of his deeds, and afterward thy wife I succoured, giving way against my counsel to her wild desires. Morgoth it is that hates thee and not I. Yet what is it to me – and wherefore dost thou of the uncouth race of Men endure to upbraid a king of the Eldalië? Lo! in Cuiviénen my life began years uncounted before the first of Men awoke. Get thee gone, O Húrin, for Morgoth hath bewitched thee, and take thy riches with thee” – but he forebore to slay or to bind Húrin in spells, remembering his ancient valiance in the Eldar’s cause.
THE END OF THE 'TALE OF THE CHILDREN OF HÚRIN'
Then Húrin departed, but would not touch the gold, and stricken in years he reached Hithlum and died; and some have said that he cast himself at last into the western sea, and so ended the mightiest of the warriors of mortal Men. But his words living after him bred estrangement between Elves and Men. Yet it is said that when he was dead his shade fared into the woods seeking Morwen, and long those twain haunted the woods about the Ravines of Taeglin bewailing their children. But the Elves have told, that at last Húrin and Morwen fared to Mandos, and Nienor was not there nor Túrin their son. Turambar indeed had followed Nienor along the black pathways to the doors of Nienna, but Nienna would not open to them, neither would Mandos. Yet now the prayers of Húrin and Morwen came even to Manwë, and the Gods had mercy on their unhappy fate, so that those twain Túrin and Nienor entered into the Bath of the Setting Sun, even as Arien and her maidens had done in ages past before the first rising of the Sun. And so were all their sorrows and stains washed away, and they dwelt as shining Valar among the blessed ones, and now the love of that brother and sister is very fair; but Turambar indeed shall stand beside Eonwë in the Last Battle, and Morgoth and his drakes shall curse the sword of Mormegil.
Thus spake Mandos in prophecy, when the Gods sat in judgement in Valinor, and the rumour of his words was whispered among all the Elves of the West. When the world is old and the Powers grow weary, then Morgoth, seeing that the guard sleepeth, shall come back through the Door of Night out of the Timeless Void; and he shall destroy the Sun and Moon. But Eärendil shall descend upon him as a white and searing flame and drive him from the airs. Then shall the Last Battle be gathered on the fields of Valinor. In that day Tulkas shall strive with Morgoth, and on his right hand shall be Eonwë, and on his left Túrin Turambar, son of Húrin, coming from the halls of Mandos; and the black sword of Túrin shall deal unto Morgoth his death and final end; and so shall the children of Húrin and all Men be avenged.
Thereafter shall Earth be broken and re-made, and the Silmarils shall be recovered out of the Air and Earth and Sea; for Eärendil shall descend and surrender that flame which he hath had in keeping. Then Fëanor shall take the Three Jewels and bear them to Yavanna Kementári; and she will break them and with their fire rekindle the Two Trees, and a great light shall come forth. And the Mountains of Valinor shall be leveled, so that the Light shall go out all over the world. In that light the Gods will grow young again, and the Elves awake and all their dead arise, and the purpose of Ilúvatar be fulfilled concerning them. But of Men in that day the prophecy of Mandos doth not speak, and no Man it names, save Túrin only, and to him a place is given among the sons of the Valar.
The only way to make sense of this chapter IMHO is to somehow reason that scribes of later ages, surfacing in Bilbo's Translations from the Elvish, not only desired to eradicate Húrin's failings and excessive pride, and elevate him to superhuman status (just as CT did!), but that said scribes (and Galadriel & Celeborn too) wished to mitigate racial ill-feelings between Men, Petty-Dwarves, Sindar, Noldor, Belegost-Dwarves, Nogrod-Dwarves, and even Ents (which the calamity in Doriath brutally fostered for 2 Ages, ie. Hobbit, LotR), by glossing over some politically explosive details, as well as inventing some healing ones (ie. Dwarves crafting the Nauglamír for Finrod).
Otherwise, if you can't bring yourself to play such games, or hide yourself in a dark room when you read the Sil and never emerge to openly discuss it, this chapter is totally meaningless - an abominable sham. IMHO of course.
So then, what did really happen in Tolkien's world? Well, there's HoMe Vols 11 & 2, Wanderings of Húrin & Tale of the Nauglafring, the only available JRRT narratives. They aren't smooth and effortless, nor contained in one nice packaged novel, but they do provide enough reasonable consistency to warrant inclusion in the legendarium over the fiction of Ch.22, and are tremendous stories to boot (written by JRRT, imagine!). Apologies where I'm preaching to the converted...
Linking them is the minor problem. To do so, one has to piece together what CT calls "scrappy writings" following Wanderings, and the Lost Tales conclusion of Turambar & the Foaloke, to the Tale of the Nauglafring. But, guess what, I've done so...
(From posts on another site):
I give here a full story, in Tolkien’s own words (7½ mine, in bold), of Húrin’s travels from Brethil to Nargothrond to Doriath and back to Hithlum, composed of the final paragraphs of Wanderings, JRRT’s contemporaneous “scrappy writings”, the conclusion of the Tale of Turambar, the Quenta Noldorinwa death of Húrin, and the QS 'Second Prophecy of Mandos'. This is how I wish CT concludes Children of Húrin, after hopefully including Wanderings. We'll see!
(I’ve also rendered consistent all the following name changes: Harathor>Hardang, Asgorn>Asgon, Taiglin>Taeglin, Glórung,Glómund,Glorund>Glaurung, Úrin>Húrin, Rodothlim>Elves of Nargothrond, Galweg>Orodreth, Melko>Morgoth, Tinwelint>Thingol, Mavwin>Morwen, Nienori>Nienor, Palisor>Cuiviénen, fall of Silver Bowl>Ravines of Taeglin, Kôr>Tirion, Fui>Nienna, Vefántur>Mandos, Fôs’Almir the bath of flame>Bath of the Setting Sun, Urwendi>Arien, Mormakil>Mormegil, Noldoli>Noldor, Artanor>Doriath, Palurien>Kementári, Fionwë>Eonwë, Great Wrack>Last Battle).
HÚRIN & THE OUTLAWS LEAVE BRETHIL
‘Thou hast a hard eye, Húrin, to pierce all hearts but thine own,’ said Manthor. ‘Yea, thy darkness touched me also. Now alas! the Haladin are ended; for this wound is to the death. Was not this your errand, Man of the North: to bring ruin upon us to weigh against thine own? The House of Hador has conquered us, and four now have fallen under its shadow: Brandir, and Hunthor, and Hardang, and Manthor. Is that not enough? Wilt thou not go and leave this land ere it dies?’
‘I will,’ said Húrin. ‘But if the well of my tears were not utterly dried up, I would weep for thee, Manthor; for thou hast saved me from dishonour, and thou hadst love for my son.’
‘Then, lord, use in peace the little more life that I have won for thee,’ said Manthor. ‘Do not bring your shadow upon others!’
‘Why, must I not still walk in the world?’ said Húrin. ‘I will go on till the shadow overtakes me. Farewell!’
Thus Húrin parted from Manthor. When men came to tend his wound they found that it was grave, for the arrow had gone deep into his side; and they wished to bear Manthor back as swiftly as they could to the Obel to have the care of skilled leeches. ‘Too late,’ said Manthor, and plucked out the arrow, and gave a great cry, and was still.
Then they wept, and they took him up, and prepared to bear him back, and they took no more heed of Húrin. But he stood silent, and turned soon away; the sun was gone down into cloud and the light failed, and he went down alone towards the Hauð-en-Elleth.
Thus befell the ruin of Brethil. For now it is said that those with Hardang were not all caught, and others came in hearing the news, and there was fighting in the Obel, and a great burning, until all was well nigh destroyed. But when the wrath of men had cooled they made peace, and some said: ‘What hath bewitched us? Surely Húrin begot all this evil, and Hardang and Avranc were more wise. They would have kept him out if they could.’ So they chose Avranc to be their chief, since none of the House of Haleth were left, but he wielded no such authority and reverence as the Chieftains before, and the Folk of Brethil fell back again to be more like their kinsmen in the open woods.
With the Moot Ring ‘unhallowed’ and the confederation broken up, men went each to their own homesteads. But some misliked this and would not serve under Avranc and made ready to depart, willing to go with Húrin. He gathers a few men who despair now of defending Brethil from the growing strength of Morgoth, having no homes or lands of their own, and wish to fly south. At the Taeglin crossing they fall in with Asgon, who has heard rumour of the wild deeds in Brethil, and of Húrin’s coming, and are now venturing back into the land to seek him. Asgon greets him, and is glad that Hardang has been punished, but angered that no one had told Húrin of their coming.
HÚRIN & MÎM IN NARGOTHROND
Now Húrin seems to pick up strength and youth. Vengeance seems to have heartened him, and he walks now strongly. They pass into the woods and gather the last fugitives of the wood-men, the kin of the folk of Brethil. Asgon they choose for captain, but he treats Húrin as lord, and does as he wills. ‘Whither shall we go,’ he asks, as they must know a place of refuge. Húrin elects to go to Nargothrond to seek news since he had been an admirer of Felagund.
On a time therefore Húrin led them to the caves of the Elves of Nargothrond, and behold the Orcs had fled therefrom at the death of Glaurung, and one only dwelt there still, an old misshapen dwarf who sat ever on the pile of gold singing black songs of enchantment to himself. But none had come nigh till then to despoil him, for the terror of the drake lived longer than he, and none had ventured thither again for dread of the very spirit of Glaurung the worm. Now therefore when those men approached the dwarf stood before the doors of the cave that was once the abode of Orodreth, and he cried: “What will ye with me, O outlaws of the hills?” But Húrin answered: “We come to take what is not thine.” Then said that dwarf, and his name was Mîm: “O Húrin, little did I think to see thee, a lord of Men, with such a rabble. Hearken now to the words of Mîm the fatherless, and depart, touching not this gold no more than were it venomous fires. For has not Glaurung lain long years upon it, and the evil of the drakes of Morgoth is on it, and no good can it bring to Man or Elf, but I, only I, can ward it, Mîm the dwarf, and by many a dark spell have I bound it to myself.” Then Húrin wavered, but his men were wroth at that, so that he bid them seize it all, and Mîm stood by and watched, and he broke forth into terrible and evil curses. Thereat did Húrin smite him, saying: “We came but to take what was not thine – now for thy evil words we will take what is thine as well, even thy life.”
But Mîm dying said unto Húrin: “Now Elves and Men shall rue this deed, and because of the death of Mîm the dwarf shall death follow this gold so long as it remains on Earth, and a like fate shall every part and portion share with the whole.” And Húrin shuddered, but his folk laughed.
HÚRIN & THINGOL IN DORIATH
Now Húrin caused his followers to bear this gold to the halls of Thingol, and they murmured at that, but he said: “Are ye become as the drakes of Morgoth, that would lie and wallow in gold and seek no other joy? A sweeter life shall ye have in the court of that king of greed, an ye bear such treasury to him, than all the gold of Valinor can get you in the empty woods.”
Now his heart was bitter against Thingol, and he desired to have a vengeance on him, as may be seen. So great was that hoard that great though Húrin’s company might be scarce could they bear it to the caves of Thingol the king, and some ‘tis said was left behind and some was lost upon the way, and evil has followed its finders for ever.
Yet in the end that laden host came to the bridge before the doors, and being asked by the guards Húrin said: "Say to the king that Húrin the Steadfast is come bearing gifts,” and this was done. Then Húrin let bear all that magnificence before the king, but it was hidden in sacks or shut in boxes of rough wood; and Thingol greeted Húrin with joy and with amaze and bid him thrice welcome, and he and all his court arose in honour of that lord of Men; but Húrin’s heart was blind by reason of his tormented years and of the lies of Morgoth, and he said: “Nay, O King, I do not desire to hear such words – but say only, where is Morwen my wife, and knowest thou what death did Nienor my daughter die?” And Thingol said that he knew not.
Then did Húrin fiercely tell that tale, and the king and all his folk about him hid their faces for great ruth, but Húrin said: “Nay, had you such a heart as have the least of Men, never would they have been lost; but lo, I bring you now a payment in full for the troubles of your puny band that went against Glaurung the drake, and deserting gave up my dear ones to his power. Gaze, O Thingol, sweetly on my gifts, for methinks the luster of gold is all your heart contains.”
Then did men cast down that treasury at the king’s feet, uncovering it so that all that court were dazzled and amazed – but Húrin’s men understood now what was forward and were little pleased. “Behold the hoard of Glaurung,” said Húrin, “bought by the death of Nienor with the blood of Túrin slayer of the worm. Take it, O craven king, and be glad that some Men be brave to win thee riches.”
Then were Húrin’s words more than Thingol could endure, and he said: “What meanest thou, child of Men, and wherefore upbraidest thou me? Long did I foster thy son and forgave him the evil of his deeds, and afterward thy wife I succoured, giving way against my counsel to her wild desires. Morgoth it is that hates thee and not I. Yet what is it to me – and wherefore dost thou of the uncouth race of Men endure to upbraid a king of the Eldalië? Lo! in Cuiviénen my life began years uncounted before the first of Men awoke. Get thee gone, O Húrin, for Morgoth hath bewitched thee, and take thy riches with thee” – but he forebore to slay or to bind Húrin in spells, remembering his ancient valiance in the Eldar’s cause.
THE END OF THE 'TALE OF THE CHILDREN OF HÚRIN'
Then Húrin departed, but would not touch the gold, and stricken in years he reached Hithlum and died; and some have said that he cast himself at last into the western sea, and so ended the mightiest of the warriors of mortal Men. But his words living after him bred estrangement between Elves and Men. Yet it is said that when he was dead his shade fared into the woods seeking Morwen, and long those twain haunted the woods about the Ravines of Taeglin bewailing their children. But the Elves have told, that at last Húrin and Morwen fared to Mandos, and Nienor was not there nor Túrin their son. Turambar indeed had followed Nienor along the black pathways to the doors of Nienna, but Nienna would not open to them, neither would Mandos. Yet now the prayers of Húrin and Morwen came even to Manwë, and the Gods had mercy on their unhappy fate, so that those twain Túrin and Nienor entered into the Bath of the Setting Sun, even as Arien and her maidens had done in ages past before the first rising of the Sun. And so were all their sorrows and stains washed away, and they dwelt as shining Valar among the blessed ones, and now the love of that brother and sister is very fair; but Turambar indeed shall stand beside Eonwë in the Last Battle, and Morgoth and his drakes shall curse the sword of Mormegil.
Thus spake Mandos in prophecy, when the Gods sat in judgement in Valinor, and the rumour of his words was whispered among all the Elves of the West. When the world is old and the Powers grow weary, then Morgoth, seeing that the guard sleepeth, shall come back through the Door of Night out of the Timeless Void; and he shall destroy the Sun and Moon. But Eärendil shall descend upon him as a white and searing flame and drive him from the airs. Then shall the Last Battle be gathered on the fields of Valinor. In that day Tulkas shall strive with Morgoth, and on his right hand shall be Eonwë, and on his left Túrin Turambar, son of Húrin, coming from the halls of Mandos; and the black sword of Túrin shall deal unto Morgoth his death and final end; and so shall the children of Húrin and all Men be avenged.
Thereafter shall Earth be broken and re-made, and the Silmarils shall be recovered out of the Air and Earth and Sea; for Eärendil shall descend and surrender that flame which he hath had in keeping. Then Fëanor shall take the Three Jewels and bear them to Yavanna Kementári; and she will break them and with their fire rekindle the Two Trees, and a great light shall come forth. And the Mountains of Valinor shall be leveled, so that the Light shall go out all over the world. In that light the Gods will grow young again, and the Elves awake and all their dead arise, and the purpose of Ilúvatar be fulfilled concerning them. But of Men in that day the prophecy of Mandos doth not speak, and no Man it names, save Túrin only, and to him a place is given among the sons of the Valar.
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Voronwë the Faithful
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Great stuff, dna; thanks for posting it here (I actually did read it at TORN when you originally posted it there.
I'll be back with some more thoughts, but I wanted to acknowledge your excellent work!
I'll be back with some more thoughts, but I wanted to acknowledge your excellent work!
Tell us what you really think, my friend.this chapter is totally meaningless - an abominable sham
"Spirits in the shape of hawks and eagles flew ever to and from his halls; and their eyes could see to the depths of the seas, and pierce the hidden caverns beneath the world."
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Voronwë the Faithful
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dna, as impressed as I am with your efforts, I really can not accept the idea of using portions of the old Lost Tales to fill in the blanks. After all, some of the material that you used was superseded by Tolkien's own work. For one thing, in the story as you have it, Mîm is making his first appearance in the tale when he is confronted by Húrin and his men. That obviously is not compatible with any reasonably complete telling of the story of Túrin (and so that would certainly need to be changed if your version were incorporated in The Children of Húrin).
That is a minor point, however. Less minor, however, is the basic question of how the gold was brought to Doriath. It simply is not true (as you have stated elsewhere), that "Tolkien was relatively consistent over 4 decades of writings that Húrin's outlaws would bear the treasure (Glaurung's hoard, not one as-yet-unmade necklace absent of a Silmaril), and cast it at Thingol's feet". In point of fact, this conception was already abandoned in the first real version of the Silmarillion, the Quenta Noldorinwa, which has already has Húrin coming to Doriath alone, his companions having been killed on the road from Nargothrond to Doriath. There is no question that the conception of the outlaws bringing the gold to Doriath had been superseded, and Tolkien never restored that conception (indeed, he never turned back to this part of the story at all). Of course, the Quenta Noldorinwa version of the story contained the wholly unsatisfactory element of Húrin asking Thingol to have his folk bear the gold to the king's halls. I have no beef with Christopher's desire to eliminate this unsatisfying part of the story, and I really don't think that returning to the old, superseded version with the outlaws bearing the gold to Doriath would be any more "canonical" then Christopher's invented version of the pre-existing Nauglamír.
That having been said, I largely agree with your main point about the "sanitized" version of Húrin that was included in the published text. I think that a much greater portion of the Wanderings of Húrin should have been included in the published text, giving a fuller picture of not just Húrin's character, but also the turmoil that existed at this time in Brethil.
In short, my beef is not so much in not returning to the old, superseded stories of the Lost Tales but rather, as usual, in not including enough of the most recent versions of the story as Tolkien himself left it. This is a constant complaint of mine, from the excision of Finwë and Míriel story, through the unpardonable removal of the actual Oath of Fëanor and his sons, and all way through the great reduction in the story of Tuor's coming to Gondolin and finally the removal of the second prophecy. The reduction of Húrin's story is certainly one of the worst examples of this trend.
In my humble opinion, of course.
That is a minor point, however. Less minor, however, is the basic question of how the gold was brought to Doriath. It simply is not true (as you have stated elsewhere), that "Tolkien was relatively consistent over 4 decades of writings that Húrin's outlaws would bear the treasure (Glaurung's hoard, not one as-yet-unmade necklace absent of a Silmaril), and cast it at Thingol's feet". In point of fact, this conception was already abandoned in the first real version of the Silmarillion, the Quenta Noldorinwa, which has already has Húrin coming to Doriath alone, his companions having been killed on the road from Nargothrond to Doriath. There is no question that the conception of the outlaws bringing the gold to Doriath had been superseded, and Tolkien never restored that conception (indeed, he never turned back to this part of the story at all). Of course, the Quenta Noldorinwa version of the story contained the wholly unsatisfactory element of Húrin asking Thingol to have his folk bear the gold to the king's halls. I have no beef with Christopher's desire to eliminate this unsatisfying part of the story, and I really don't think that returning to the old, superseded version with the outlaws bearing the gold to Doriath would be any more "canonical" then Christopher's invented version of the pre-existing Nauglamír.
That having been said, I largely agree with your main point about the "sanitized" version of Húrin that was included in the published text. I think that a much greater portion of the Wanderings of Húrin should have been included in the published text, giving a fuller picture of not just Húrin's character, but also the turmoil that existed at this time in Brethil.
In short, my beef is not so much in not returning to the old, superseded stories of the Lost Tales but rather, as usual, in not including enough of the most recent versions of the story as Tolkien himself left it. This is a constant complaint of mine, from the excision of Finwë and Míriel story, through the unpardonable removal of the actual Oath of Fëanor and his sons, and all way through the great reduction in the story of Tuor's coming to Gondolin and finally the removal of the second prophecy. The reduction of Húrin's story is certainly one of the worst examples of this trend.
In my humble opinion, of course.
"Spirits in the shape of hawks and eagles flew ever to and from his halls; and their eyes could see to the depths of the seas, and pierce the hidden caverns beneath the world."
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Dân o Nandor on Anduin
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Yes, I do realize that I have a high threshold of tolerance for the Lost Tales, but they are the only narrative accounts of what happens deep inside Doriath and Gondolin as they fall - 2 very important events, by all counts. Admittedly I’ve learned to bypass inconsistencies, which I’ve found to be surprisingly minor in the end… (Greater and Lesser Balrogs, anyone? next chapter...) Fair enough on Mîm, but as you note, that could be tweaked easy enough.
As for my perhaps overbold statement on the outlaws to Doriath, I’ll stand by it. The entry for 502 of the 'Wanderings plot-synopsis'/'Grey Annals continuation' (written “with fair certainty towards the end of the 1950s”) clearly states “Húrin comes to Nargothrond and slays Mîm the petty-dwarf. He and his men carry off the treasure of Glaurung and bring it to Doriath. Húrin is admitted in pity.” Although I'm extremely leery of the term "superceded", does this not qualify in your books? It gets totally overlooked by CT however in his half-hearted admissions, while he continues to play-up the Quenta Noldorinwa “blip”, rendered ill-conceived for many reasons.
And the “first real version of the Silmarillion” (’26) states “Húrin and outlaws come to Nargothrond, whom none dare plunder for dread of the spirit of Glórung or even of his memory. They slay Mîm the Dwarf who had taken possession and enchanted all the gold. Húrin casts the gold at Thingol’s feet with reproaches.” All indications are that the outlaws were still present. Thus, yes, with one erroneous exception, 4 decades of consistency could be argued, no?
But thanks for giving this due process!
As for my perhaps overbold statement on the outlaws to Doriath, I’ll stand by it. The entry for 502 of the 'Wanderings plot-synopsis'/'Grey Annals continuation' (written “with fair certainty towards the end of the 1950s”) clearly states “Húrin comes to Nargothrond and slays Mîm the petty-dwarf. He and his men carry off the treasure of Glaurung and bring it to Doriath. Húrin is admitted in pity.” Although I'm extremely leery of the term "superceded", does this not qualify in your books? It gets totally overlooked by CT however in his half-hearted admissions, while he continues to play-up the Quenta Noldorinwa “blip”, rendered ill-conceived for many reasons.
And the “first real version of the Silmarillion” (’26) states “Húrin and outlaws come to Nargothrond, whom none dare plunder for dread of the spirit of Glórung or even of his memory. They slay Mîm the Dwarf who had taken possession and enchanted all the gold. Húrin casts the gold at Thingol’s feet with reproaches.” All indications are that the outlaws were still present. Thus, yes, with one erroneous exception, 4 decades of consistency could be argued, no?
But thanks for giving this due process!
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Voronwë the Faithful
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Good point about the Grey Annals continuation text, my friend. I had conveniently forgotten about that. Yes, that would "supersede" ( ) the QN debacle
) the QN debacle"Spirits in the shape of hawks and eagles flew ever to and from his halls; and their eyes could see to the depths of the seas, and pierce the hidden caverns beneath the world."
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Dân o Nandor on Anduin
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Michael Drout has apparently done some similar reconstruction. In a recent interview, when asked about the Children of Húrin, he states:
"I gather that this is simply a rearrangement and collation of the materials found elsewhere in The History of Middle-earth volumes. I have reconstructed some of it, but not all pieces will be reassembled in the same ways. I think it will be interesting, and maybe some of Tolkien's brilliant set pieces will get more of what they deserve."
Amen to that!
"I gather that this is simply a rearrangement and collation of the materials found elsewhere in The History of Middle-earth volumes. I have reconstructed some of it, but not all pieces will be reassembled in the same ways. I think it will be interesting, and maybe some of Tolkien's brilliant set pieces will get more of what they deserve."
Amen to that!
A few comments on this section.
First, I am quite embarrassed
that I didn't realize how much of this chapter was made up. I haven't looked at the BoLTs in several years.
Second, I am also one who does not like the Second Prophecy. The description makes Túrin and Nienor like archangels. I just don't see it. Eärendil makes a good St. Micheal though. Túrin suffered a great deal, yes, but some of it was of his own making. And it goes against the "established order" that Men pass beyond the Circles of the World. I see Nienor getting a direct pass to "heaven" but Túrin needs some time in "Purgatory" to work off his pride.
Third, Thingol is a rather obnoxious character. For anyone who thinks the elves are "so wise and wonderful" obviously hasn't read Thingol's racist comments.
Fourth, I am doing a talk on the Sil at Dragoncon (Labor Day weekend in Atlanta) this year. I did it at The Gathering last year. I am definitely making some changes after reading the material here.
First, I am quite embarrassed
that I didn't realize how much of this chapter was made up. I haven't looked at the BoLTs in several years.Second, I am also one who does not like the Second Prophecy. The description makes Túrin and Nienor like archangels. I just don't see it. Eärendil makes a good St. Micheal though. Túrin suffered a great deal, yes, but some of it was of his own making. And it goes against the "established order" that Men pass beyond the Circles of the World. I see Nienor getting a direct pass to "heaven" but Túrin needs some time in "Purgatory" to work off his pride.
Third, Thingol is a rather obnoxious character. For anyone who thinks the elves are "so wise and wonderful" obviously hasn't read Thingol's racist comments.
Fourth, I am doing a talk on the Sil at Dragoncon (Labor Day weekend in Atlanta) this year. I did it at The Gathering last year. I am definitely making some changes after reading the material here.
Wes ðū hāl
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Voronwë the Faithful
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Thanks for your comments, Andreth, and for joining in on the longest running Silmarillion discussion in the history of the world!
I don't think it is that common knowledge, although CT does make a comment about it in The War of the Jewels. Hopefully if my book Arda Reconstructed is ever published, it will become more common knowledge.Andreth wrote:First, I am quite embarrassed
That is an interesting point of view. However, I would argue that Túrin DOES spend a long in roughly the equivalent of "purgatory" before emerging to smite Morgoth down.Second, I am also one who does not like the Second Prophecy. The description makes Túrin and Nienor like archangels. I just don't see it. Eärendil makes a good St. Micheal though. Túrin suffered a great deal, yes, but some of it was of his own making. And it goes against the "established order" that Men pass beyond the Circles of the World. I see Nienor getting a direct pass to "heaven" but Túrin needs some time in "Purgatory" to work off his pride.
As I have said before, I think that Hugo Weaving did a credible job portraying Thingol (disguised as Elrond) in the LOTR movies.Third, Thingol is a rather obnoxious character. For anyone who thinks the elves are "so wise and wonderful" obviously hasn't read Thingol's racist comments.
Good luck with that! Hopefully you'll have an opportunity to mention this cool website that helped to refine your understanding of the Silmarillion.Fourth, I am doing a talk on the Sil at Dragoncon (Labor Day weekend in Atlanta) this year. I did it at The Gathering last year. I am definitely making some changes after reading the material here.
"Spirits in the shape of hawks and eagles flew ever to and from his halls; and their eyes could see to the depths of the seas, and pierce the hidden caverns beneath the world."
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Voronwë the Faithful
- At the intersection of here and now
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[Note: I moved a number of posts from this thread to a new thread I have created on The Second Prophecy.]
I do still hope that some people add their thoughts about the Ruit of Doriath. Please?
I do still hope that some people add their thoughts about the Ruit of Doriath. Please?
"Spirits in the shape of hawks and eagles flew ever to and from his halls; and their eyes could see to the depths of the seas, and pierce the hidden caverns beneath the world."
Of Tuor and the Fall of Gondolin
At this point in the Sil, we have long been in deepening darkness. The Fifth Battle and its aftermath have decimated the Two Kindreds, the House of Húrin has fallen to the curse of Morgoth, Nargothrond has been destroyed, and Doriath laid to waste. The last eighty pages have been a very tough ride. But like Sam looking up from the despair and defilement of Mordor, we will now be witness to a welcome revelation of goodness and hope that is beyond the reach of the Shadow. Indeed, one can immediately connect that one, single star shining above the hobbits, with the words of Ulmo to Tuor at Vinyamar: “it is not for thy valour only that I send thee, but to bring into the world a hope beyond thy sight, and a light that shall pierce the darkness”.
These words are not found in the published Sil, but in the brief, yet far more detailed text, “Of Tuor and His Coming to Gondolin” from Unfinished Tales. I love this particular work, even though it abruptly ends as Tuor gazes down, for the first time, upon the hidden city of Gondolin. Unlike my readings of the two stories of Túrin however, there is no need to reconcile differences in the main protagonist: much like a reflection of “Voronwë", his guide’s name, Tuor remains steadfast and constant in both depictions. If there was ever a tale that I wish Tolkien had completed as a full-bodied narrative, it is this one, and although the unfinished version differs from that of the Sil in style, I think I would have preferred even a noticeable stitching of the two together than the abbreviated version standing alone – it is that rich in the telling.
Ah well.
Within the greater myth of the Sil, the story of Tuor seems more heavily ladened with specific and pointed symbolic imagery and references, indicating, I think, the unique importance of this tale. With this reading, I noticed the recurring use of the number seven: the seven years that pass from the time that Tuor leaves Androth to the time of his “calling”, the seven great swans that lead him to Vinyamar, the seven ships that have been sent into the West by Turgon , lord of Gondolin, the city of “seven names” guarded by seven gates, the seven years that pass before Tuor’s and Idril’s marriage, and even their son Eärendil’s age of seven at the time of Morgoth’s great assault. I find it interesting that Tolkien would use the most significant and powerful number found in nearly all mythologies and living religions so many times in a single tale….I do believe that he wanted us, consciously or unconsciously, to recognize Tuor, the last great lord of the Three Houses of the Edain, and Gondolin, the last great cultural stronghold of the Noldor in Middle-earth, as absolutely pivotal to everything that follows in the legendarium - from the redemptive voyage of Eärendil, to the rise and fall of Númenor, and finally, even to the Third Age and the War of the Ring.
But I digress (as usual). On with my summary of the chapter (and thoughts thereon, hopefully not too muddled and murky)!
At the beginning of the story, I think it is telling that Tolkien removes Tuor from the world of Men in his infancy. Fostered by the Grey-elves in the hidden refuge of Androth, he is more akin to the First Children of Ilúvatar than any other mortal. His only contact with his own race is brutal and bitter, as he suffers through three years of enslavement under the Easterlings of Hithlum, and upon his escape he becomes, as Beren before him, a solitary outlaw in the wild. There is such a difference between the outlaws Beren and Tuor and the outlaw Túrin – the former choosing to ally himself with a band of cutthroats after turning away from those who care for him; the latter utterly alone, their choice thrust upon them after losing everything they hold dear.
Drawn westward by the power of Ulmo, Tuor comes into Nevrast and stands upon its cliffs looking out towards the Great Sea, a moment that is perfectly captured by a passage from UT: "…he came suddenly to the black brink of Middle-earth, and saw the Great Sea, Belegaer the Shoreless. And at that hour the sun went down beyond the rim of the world, as a mighty fire; and Tuor stood alone upon the cliff with outspread arms, and a great yearning filled his heart. It is said that he was the first of Men to reach the Great Sea, and that none, save the Eldar, have ever felt more deeply the longing that it brings.”
The swans are most interesting. Much more is made of their part in UT, with them bowing down before Tuor when he emerges from the halls of Vinyamar wearing the gear left there by Turgon, (including a shield emblazoned with a swan’s wing) and each offering a single wing feather for his helm before flying north in the sunset. I know that swans are long associated with Ulmo, from the great birds that pull the ships of the Teleri to Aman to the form he gives Elwing to fly with the Silmaril in search of Eärendil. But I like to harbour (
) the thought that Manwë is lord over all the great birds of Arda, and that he is Ulmo’s dearest friend among the Valar, and that perhaps, just perhaps, there is more to the appearance of the swans than meets the eye. Perhaps.
Tuor’s encounter with Ulmo, rising from the waves during the great storm that comes out of the west is so…..lacking, compared to the UT version of the event, where the Vala’s revealed thought and love for the Children of Ilúvatar in Middle-earth beautifully reflects his designs and workings in the earlier chapters of the Sil. But, be that as it may, the discourse ends with Ulmo charging Tuor to depart for Gondolin, shielded by a great cloak “to mantle him in shadow from the eyes of his enemies.”
The next morning, Tuor meets Voronwë, “the last mariner of the last ship” that Turgon sent in search of Aman, who has been saved from the storm and cast upon the shore by Ulmo so that he may guide Tuor to Gondolin. In UT, their journey is told in detail, and we get to know the heart and mind of this wise and weary Elf as he tells the story of his long travels – “seven years in the Great Sea from the North even into the South, but never to the West. For that is shut against us….But very bright were the stars upon the margin of the world, when at times the clouds about the West were drawn aside.”
One detail from the longer version finds its way into this telling: Tuor’s and Voronwë’s sighting of Túrin by the Pools of Ivrin, now defiled by Glaurung. It is a masterful stroke on Tolkien’s part, to have the two fate-driven cousins passing each other on their separate journeys – one of those moments, subtle, yet powerful in its symbolism, when he allows the reader to glimpse, almost frozen in its clarity, the mysterious workings of doom, free will and providence. The quiet irony is most satisfying, knowing that while all of Morgoth’s thought is being bent upon the utter undoing of one man in self-indulgent vengeance, another man walks unheeded towards a destiny that will ultimately undo the Great Enemy himself.
Tuor’s first sight of Gondolin is so reminiscent of the introductory description of Minas Tirith in LOTR. Both are known as “The White City”, with the seven circles of Minas Tirith echoing the seven gates of Gondolin; the former leading to the fountain before the Tower of Ecthelion, the latter leading to Ecthelion himself, “Lord of the Fountains”. And like Pippin watching the first rays of the morning sun touching the walls of the city and hearing the “sound of silver trumpets” issuing from its towers, Tuor is greeted by trumpets “blown on the towers of the great gate, and they echoed in the hills; and far off but clear there came a sound of answering trumpets blown upon the white walls of the city, flushed with the rose of dawn upon the plain.”
Like so many others in Tolkien’s works, Turgon’s “fall” isn’t rooted in evil intent, but rather in pride and possessiveness. Trusting the strength and endurance of his own works over the words of Ulmo, he turns his ear to Maeglin in a nice little reflection of basic human nature: "Maeglin spoke ever against Tuor in the councils of the King, and his words seemed the more weighty in that they went with Turgon’s heart." Ah yes, we do tend to listen to what we want to hear, do we not?
It’s sad, really, to watch Turgon’s attempts to escape the Doom of Mandos, shutting “his ear to word of the woes without”, vowing to “march never at the side of any son of Fëanor”, forbidding his people “ever to pass the leaguer of the hills”, blocking up the hidden door in the Encircling Mountains – all to quell the fear of treason that has awakened in his heart. And yet, like the “rift in the armour of Fate” that Ulmo speaks of in UT, Turgon consents to the marriage of Idril and Tuor, perceiving “that the fate of the Noldor was wound with the one whom Ulmo had sent; and he did not forget the words that Huor spoke to him before the host of Gondolin departed from the Battle of Unnumbered Tears.”
The birth of Eärendil Halfelven is accompanied by a description that echoes that of Lúthien, heralding the special role he will play on the great stage of Arda: “Of surpassing beauty was Eärendil, for a light was in his face as the light of heaven.” But it is in this time of “joy and peace” that Húrin cries out in his despair in the wilderness beyond the Encircling Mountains, unwittingly alerting Morgoth, whose thought will now be "bent unceasing" upon the surrounding lands. It seems that Idril somehow perceives the shadowy arm of Morgoth reaching towards Gondolin, and in foresight, has a secret way of escape prepared, making sure that no word of it comes to Maeglin`s ears. And good thing, too. For Maeglin, secretly defying his Lord's wishes, goes beyond the leaguer of the hills in search of rare metals for his smithies, and is captured and brought before the throne of Morgoth. There, he betrays Gondolin under the threat of unspeakable torment, but more darkly, for the promise of its lordship and the possession of Idril. At this point, there is something quite "Wormtongue-ian" about Maeglin, counsellor to the King, "with smiling face and evil in his heart", a traitor biding his time until rewarded with all that he has secretly lusted after for so long.
Morgoth`s assault against Gondolin brings to mind his attack with Ungoliant against the Two Trees of Valinor, suddenly coming against the city during a time of festival, when its people are gathered upon the city walls to "await the rising sun, and sing their songs at its uplifting". The battle for Gondolin is swift and brutal, and the end of the White City is the end of Turgon, last of the High Kings of the Noldor that came out of Valinor. Tuor rescues Idril and Eärendil from Maeglin, and in a perfect parallel to Eöl`s execution long before, the dark son of the Dark Elf is cast out from the city walls to be dashed upon the rocks below. Hidden under the fumes of fire and steam, Idril and Tuor lead a remnant of the people of Gondolin along the secret way that has been prepared for them, and there, the great battle between Glorfindel and the Balrog takes place, ending in the death of both. Thorondor and his eagles dispatch the Orcs that stand in the way of escape, and the refugees of Gondolin flee southward until they come to Nan-tathren, the Land of Willows by the great river Sirion, where the power of Ulmo protects them. It is here that Tuor makes a song for Eärendil recounting the coming of the Lord of Waters to the shores of Nevrast, and with it, the sea-longing is reawakened in own heart, as well as passed on into the heart of his son. Travelling down Sirion to the sea, the last survivors of Gondolin are joined with those of Doriath, led by Elwing Dior`s daughter, and in Balar, Ereinion Gil-galad is named High King of the Noldor in Middle-earth.
With the destruction of Gondolin, Morgoth thinks "that his triumph is fulfilled". He deems that the Simaril that was taken from his crown will now cause the people of the Eldar to vanish from Middle-earth, recalling how the oath of Fëanor has done nothing but turn things "always to his mightiest aid". Fully expecting the Eldar themselves to cause their own final destruction through lies and treachery, Morgoth is willing to wait them out, blind to the possibility of redemption that surely he, as the greatest of the Ainur in knowledge and strength, once heard in the chords of the First Music. That he would lack even a portion of such foresight shows, I think, how diminished he has become as he has poured out his power into Middle-earth. And while he sits on his dark throne in the dark pits of Angband, the people of Doriath and Gondolin "took to the waves and the building of ships, dwelling ever nigh to the coasts of Arvernien under the shadow of Ulmo`s hand".
Before the chapter ends, we are told that Ulmo goes to Valinor to plead for the succour of the Elves and the winning back of the Silmarils, but "Manwë moved not". Rather than this being an indication of a stern and unforgiving heart, however, it is suggested that even the Powers of the World cannot overturn the oath sworn by Fëanor, and must wait for his sons to relinquish their claim upon the Blessed Jewels, as they also must wait for "the one" to come on behalf of both Elves and Men.
The final passage of the tale has the "longing for the deeps of the Sea" growing stronger in Tuor's heart as he approaches old age. Building the great ship, Eärrame, he and Idril sail West into the sunset, and "came no more into any tale or song". There was a time when I thought that Tuor's mysterious end didn`t make much sense; that it was just a convenient way to avoid revisiting the issue of the sundering fates of Elves and Men that Tolkien explores with Lúthien and Beren, and later, with Aragorn and Arwen. But the more I read the UT version, the more I think that Tolkien set up Tuor as distinctively apart and different from other Men. A favourite passage of mine: "None were there to see him, as he gazed westward, gleaming in silver and gold, and he knew not that in that hour he appeared as one of the Mighty of the West, and fit to be the father of the kings of the Kings of Men beyond the Sea." Hearing a single note played by Ulmo on a "mighty horn", Tuor is gifted with "the swift sight of the Valar", and sees, in a single moment, "all the waters of the world in a great vision….until remote upon the edge of sight, and beyond the count of leagues, he glimpsed a mountain, rising beyond his mind's reach into a shining cloud, and at its feet a long surf glimmering". In the end, I think, Tuor sails straight into that vision, following his heart, and going home at last.
At this point in the Sil, we have long been in deepening darkness. The Fifth Battle and its aftermath have decimated the Two Kindreds, the House of Húrin has fallen to the curse of Morgoth, Nargothrond has been destroyed, and Doriath laid to waste. The last eighty pages have been a very tough ride.
But like Sam looking up from the despair and defilement of Mordor, we will now be witness to a welcome revelation of goodness and hope that is beyond the reach of the Shadow. Indeed, one can immediately connect that one, single star shining above the hobbits, with the words of Ulmo to Tuor at Vinyamar: “it is not for thy valour only that I send thee, but to bring into the world a hope beyond thy sight, and a light that shall pierce the darkness”. These words are not found in the published Sil, but in the brief, yet far more detailed text, “Of Tuor and His Coming to Gondolin” from Unfinished Tales. I love this particular work, even though it abruptly ends as Tuor gazes down, for the first time, upon the hidden city of Gondolin. Unlike my readings of the two stories of Túrin however, there is no need to reconcile differences in the main protagonist: much like a reflection of “Voronwë", his guide’s name, Tuor remains steadfast and constant in both depictions. If there was ever a tale that I wish Tolkien had completed as a full-bodied narrative, it is this one, and although the unfinished version differs from that of the Sil in style, I think I would have preferred even a noticeable stitching of the two together than the abbreviated version standing alone – it is that rich in the telling.
Ah well.
Within the greater myth of the Sil, the story of Tuor seems more heavily ladened with specific and pointed symbolic imagery and references, indicating, I think, the unique importance of this tale. With this reading, I noticed the recurring use of the number seven: the seven years that pass from the time that Tuor leaves Androth to the time of his “calling”, the seven great swans that lead him to Vinyamar, the seven ships that have been sent into the West by Turgon , lord of Gondolin, the city of “seven names” guarded by seven gates, the seven years that pass before Tuor’s and Idril’s marriage, and even their son Eärendil’s age of seven at the time of Morgoth’s great assault. I find it interesting that Tolkien would use the most significant and powerful number found in nearly all mythologies and living religions so many times in a single tale….I do believe that he wanted us, consciously or unconsciously, to recognize Tuor, the last great lord of the Three Houses of the Edain, and Gondolin, the last great cultural stronghold of the Noldor in Middle-earth, as absolutely pivotal to everything that follows in the legendarium - from the redemptive voyage of Eärendil, to the rise and fall of Númenor, and finally, even to the Third Age and the War of the Ring.
But I digress (as usual). On with my summary of the chapter (and thoughts thereon, hopefully not too muddled and murky)!
At the beginning of the story, I think it is telling that Tolkien removes Tuor from the world of Men in his infancy. Fostered by the Grey-elves in the hidden refuge of Androth, he is more akin to the First Children of Ilúvatar than any other mortal. His only contact with his own race is brutal and bitter, as he suffers through three years of enslavement under the Easterlings of Hithlum, and upon his escape he becomes, as Beren before him, a solitary outlaw in the wild. There is such a difference between the outlaws Beren and Tuor and the outlaw Túrin – the former choosing to ally himself with a band of cutthroats after turning away from those who care for him; the latter utterly alone, their choice thrust upon them after losing everything they hold dear.
Drawn westward by the power of Ulmo, Tuor comes into Nevrast and stands upon its cliffs looking out towards the Great Sea, a moment that is perfectly captured by a passage from UT: "…he came suddenly to the black brink of Middle-earth, and saw the Great Sea, Belegaer the Shoreless. And at that hour the sun went down beyond the rim of the world, as a mighty fire; and Tuor stood alone upon the cliff with outspread arms, and a great yearning filled his heart. It is said that he was the first of Men to reach the Great Sea, and that none, save the Eldar, have ever felt more deeply the longing that it brings.”
The swans are most interesting. Much more is made of their part in UT, with them bowing down before Tuor when he emerges from the halls of Vinyamar wearing the gear left there by Turgon, (including a shield emblazoned with a swan’s wing) and each offering a single wing feather for his helm before flying north in the sunset. I know that swans are long associated with Ulmo, from the great birds that pull the ships of the Teleri to Aman to the form he gives Elwing to fly with the Silmaril in search of Eärendil. But I like to harbour (
) the thought that Manwë is lord over all the great birds of Arda, and that he is Ulmo’s dearest friend among the Valar, and that perhaps, just perhaps, there is more to the appearance of the swans than meets the eye. Perhaps.Tuor’s encounter with Ulmo, rising from the waves during the great storm that comes out of the west is so…..lacking, compared to the UT version of the event, where the Vala’s revealed thought and love for the Children of Ilúvatar in Middle-earth beautifully reflects his designs and workings in the earlier chapters of the Sil. But, be that as it may, the discourse ends with Ulmo charging Tuor to depart for Gondolin, shielded by a great cloak “to mantle him in shadow from the eyes of his enemies.”
The next morning, Tuor meets Voronwë, “the last mariner of the last ship” that Turgon sent in search of Aman, who has been saved from the storm and cast upon the shore by Ulmo so that he may guide Tuor to Gondolin. In UT, their journey is told in detail, and we get to know the heart and mind of this wise and weary Elf as he tells the story of his long travels – “seven years in the Great Sea from the North even into the South, but never to the West. For that is shut against us….But very bright were the stars upon the margin of the world, when at times the clouds about the West were drawn aside.”
One detail from the longer version finds its way into this telling: Tuor’s and Voronwë’s sighting of Túrin by the Pools of Ivrin, now defiled by Glaurung. It is a masterful stroke on Tolkien’s part, to have the two fate-driven cousins passing each other on their separate journeys – one of those moments, subtle, yet powerful in its symbolism, when he allows the reader to glimpse, almost frozen in its clarity, the mysterious workings of doom, free will and providence. The quiet irony is most satisfying, knowing that while all of Morgoth’s thought is being bent upon the utter undoing of one man in self-indulgent vengeance, another man walks unheeded towards a destiny that will ultimately undo the Great Enemy himself.
Tuor’s first sight of Gondolin is so reminiscent of the introductory description of Minas Tirith in LOTR. Both are known as “The White City”, with the seven circles of Minas Tirith echoing the seven gates of Gondolin; the former leading to the fountain before the Tower of Ecthelion, the latter leading to Ecthelion himself, “Lord of the Fountains”. And like Pippin watching the first rays of the morning sun touching the walls of the city and hearing the “sound of silver trumpets” issuing from its towers, Tuor is greeted by trumpets “blown on the towers of the great gate, and they echoed in the hills; and far off but clear there came a sound of answering trumpets blown upon the white walls of the city, flushed with the rose of dawn upon the plain.”
Like so many others in Tolkien’s works, Turgon’s “fall” isn’t rooted in evil intent, but rather in pride and possessiveness. Trusting the strength and endurance of his own works over the words of Ulmo, he turns his ear to Maeglin in a nice little reflection of basic human nature: "Maeglin spoke ever against Tuor in the councils of the King, and his words seemed the more weighty in that they went with Turgon’s heart." Ah yes, we do tend to listen to what we want to hear, do we not?
It’s sad, really, to watch Turgon’s attempts to escape the Doom of Mandos, shutting “his ear to word of the woes without”, vowing to “march never at the side of any son of Fëanor”, forbidding his people “ever to pass the leaguer of the hills”, blocking up the hidden door in the Encircling Mountains – all to quell the fear of treason that has awakened in his heart. And yet, like the “rift in the armour of Fate” that Ulmo speaks of in UT, Turgon consents to the marriage of Idril and Tuor, perceiving “that the fate of the Noldor was wound with the one whom Ulmo had sent; and he did not forget the words that Huor spoke to him before the host of Gondolin departed from the Battle of Unnumbered Tears.”
The birth of Eärendil Halfelven is accompanied by a description that echoes that of Lúthien, heralding the special role he will play on the great stage of Arda: “Of surpassing beauty was Eärendil, for a light was in his face as the light of heaven.” But it is in this time of “joy and peace” that Húrin cries out in his despair in the wilderness beyond the Encircling Mountains, unwittingly alerting Morgoth, whose thought will now be "bent unceasing" upon the surrounding lands. It seems that Idril somehow perceives the shadowy arm of Morgoth reaching towards Gondolin, and in foresight, has a secret way of escape prepared, making sure that no word of it comes to Maeglin`s ears. And good thing, too. For Maeglin, secretly defying his Lord's wishes, goes beyond the leaguer of the hills in search of rare metals for his smithies, and is captured and brought before the throne of Morgoth. There, he betrays Gondolin under the threat of unspeakable torment, but more darkly, for the promise of its lordship and the possession of Idril. At this point, there is something quite "Wormtongue-ian" about Maeglin, counsellor to the King, "with smiling face and evil in his heart", a traitor biding his time until rewarded with all that he has secretly lusted after for so long.
Morgoth`s assault against Gondolin brings to mind his attack with Ungoliant against the Two Trees of Valinor, suddenly coming against the city during a time of festival, when its people are gathered upon the city walls to "await the rising sun, and sing their songs at its uplifting". The battle for Gondolin is swift and brutal, and the end of the White City is the end of Turgon, last of the High Kings of the Noldor that came out of Valinor. Tuor rescues Idril and Eärendil from Maeglin, and in a perfect parallel to Eöl`s execution long before, the dark son of the Dark Elf is cast out from the city walls to be dashed upon the rocks below. Hidden under the fumes of fire and steam, Idril and Tuor lead a remnant of the people of Gondolin along the secret way that has been prepared for them, and there, the great battle between Glorfindel
and the Balrog takes place, ending in the death of both. Thorondor and his eagles dispatch the Orcs that stand in the way of escape, and the refugees of Gondolin flee southward until they come to Nan-tathren, the Land of Willows by the great river Sirion, where the power of Ulmo protects them. It is here that Tuor makes a song for Eärendil recounting the coming of the Lord of Waters to the shores of Nevrast, and with it, the sea-longing is reawakened in own heart, as well as passed on into the heart of his son. Travelling down Sirion to the sea, the last survivors of Gondolin are joined with those of Doriath, led by Elwing Dior`s daughter, and in Balar, Ereinion Gil-galad is named High King of the Noldor in Middle-earth. With the destruction of Gondolin, Morgoth thinks "that his triumph is fulfilled". He deems that the Simaril that was taken from his crown will now cause the people of the Eldar to vanish from Middle-earth, recalling how the oath of Fëanor has done nothing but turn things "always to his mightiest aid". Fully expecting the Eldar themselves to cause their own final destruction through lies and treachery, Morgoth is willing to wait them out, blind to the possibility of redemption that surely he, as the greatest of the Ainur in knowledge and strength, once heard in the chords of the First Music. That he would lack even a portion of such foresight shows, I think, how diminished he has become as he has poured out his power into Middle-earth. And while he sits on his dark throne in the dark pits of Angband, the people of Doriath and Gondolin "took to the waves and the building of ships, dwelling ever nigh to the coasts of Arvernien under the shadow of Ulmo`s hand".
Before the chapter ends, we are told that Ulmo goes to Valinor to plead for the succour of the Elves and the winning back of the Silmarils, but "Manwë moved not". Rather than this being an indication of a stern and unforgiving heart, however, it is suggested that even the Powers of the World cannot overturn the oath sworn by Fëanor, and must wait for his sons to relinquish their claim upon the Blessed Jewels, as they also must wait for "the one" to come on behalf of both Elves and Men.
The final passage of the tale has the "longing for the deeps of the Sea" growing stronger in Tuor's heart as he approaches old age. Building the great ship, Eärrame, he and Idril sail West into the sunset, and "came no more into any tale or song". There was a time when I thought that Tuor's mysterious end didn`t make much sense; that it was just a convenient way to avoid revisiting the issue of the sundering fates of Elves and Men that Tolkien explores with Lúthien and Beren, and later, with Aragorn and Arwen. But the more I read the UT version, the more I think that Tolkien set up Tuor as distinctively apart and different from other Men. A favourite passage of mine: "None were there to see him, as he gazed westward, gleaming in silver and gold, and he knew not that in that hour he appeared as one of the Mighty of the West, and fit to be the father of the kings of the Kings of Men beyond the Sea." Hearing a single note played by Ulmo on a "mighty horn", Tuor is gifted with "the swift sight of the Valar", and sees, in a single moment, "all the waters of the world in a great vision….until remote upon the edge of sight, and beyond the count of leagues, he glimpsed a mountain, rising beyond his mind's reach into a shining cloud, and at its feet a long surf glimmering". In the end, I think, Tuor sails straight into that vision, following his heart, and going home at last.
Who could be so lucky? Who comes to a lake for water and sees the reflection of moon.
Jalal ad-Din Rumi
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Voronwë the Faithful
- At the intersection of here and now
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I will have plenty to say about this chapter (not surprisingly), but for now, from the great Anke Eichmann:
"Even as he spoke thus, they heard a cry in the woods, and they stood still as grey stones, listening. But the voice was a fair voice, though filled with grief, and it seemed that it called ever upon a name, as one that searches for another who is lost. And as they waited one came through the trees, and they saw that he was a tall Man, armed, clad in black, with a long sword drawn; and they wondered, for the blade of the sword also was black, but the edges shone bright and cold."
"Spirits in the shape of hawks and eagles flew ever to and from his halls; and their eyes could see to the depths of the seas, and pierce the hidden caverns beneath the world."
"Woe was graven in his face, and when he beheld the ruin of Ivrin he cried aloud in grief, saying: 'Ivrin, Faelivrin! Gwindor and Beleg! Here once I was healed. But now never shall I drink the draught of peace again.'Voronwë_the_Faithful wrote:
I will have plenty to say about this chapter (not surprisingly), but for now, from the great Anke Eichmann:
"Even as he spoke thus, they heard a cry in the woods, and they stood still as grey stones, listening. But the voice was a fair voice, though filled with grief, and it seemed that it called ever upon a name, as one that searches for another who is lost. And as they waited one came through the trees, and they saw that he was a tall Man, armed, clad in black, with a long sword drawn; and they wondered, for the blade of the sword also was black, but the edges shone bright and cold."
Then he went swiftly away towards the North, as one in pursuit, or on an errand of great haste, and they heard him cry Faelivrin, Finduilas! until his voice died away in the woods."
You know, I've always felt more pity and sorrow for Túrin in this passage than anywhere in his own tale.
And what a beautiful rendering of the scene by Anke Eichmann.
I've never seen it before........thanks for posting it, Voronwë!Who could be so lucky? Who comes to a lake for water and sees the reflection of moon.
Jalal ad-Din Rumi
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axordil
- Pleasantly Twisted
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The cousins crossing in the night, as it were, is one of those signature moments: the working out of two destinies once close and now under two very different auspices.
There is to my taste at least something slightly mechanical about the Sil's Tuor/FoG story, a less-than-dramatic working out of things long ago set in motion (the importance armor in Vinyamar being only the most obvious example). I kind of yearn for the political intrigue between the great Houses of Gondolin lost in compilation and redaction...not to mention scenes of actual tension involving Tuor, Maeglin, and Idril.
There is to my taste at least something slightly mechanical about the Sil's Tuor/FoG story, a less-than-dramatic working out of things long ago set in motion (the importance armor in Vinyamar being only the most obvious example). I kind of yearn for the political intrigue between the great Houses of Gondolin lost in compilation and redaction...not to mention scenes of actual tension involving Tuor, Maeglin, and Idril.
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Primula Baggins
- Living in hope
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<tiptoes in> Eißmann. . . .
<tiptoes out>
<tiptoes out>
“There, peeping among the cloud-wrack above a dark tor high up in the mountains, Sam saw a white star twinkle for a while. The beauty of it smote his heart, as he looked up out of the forsaken land, and hope returned to him. For like a shaft, clear and cold, the thought pierced him that in the end the Shadow was only a small and passing thing: there was light and high beauty for ever beyond its reach.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Return of the King
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Return of the King
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superwizard
- Ingólemo
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Wow amazing post ath
Yes the crossing of the two cousins is one of the most powerful moments of the Sil. I have always wondered what would have happened had Túrin and Tuor met. Would Tuor have been able to convince Túrin to come with him? Would Túrin have convinced Tuor or would they have simply gone their respective ways?
Yes the crossing of the two cousins is one of the most powerful moments of the Sil. I have always wondered what would have happened had Túrin and Tuor met. Would Tuor have been able to convince Túrin to come with him? Would Túrin have convinced Tuor or would they have simply gone their respective ways?